


Eight Years

by harryincamp



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Related, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Girl Direction, Girls Kissing, No Angst, Queer (word), Romantic Fluff, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-29 12:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryincamp/pseuds/harryincamp
Summary: An atmospheric story. An ode to love, tenderness and dedication. With a hint of stubbornness.In which Harry and Louis celebrate their eight year anniversary. Or, they don't know where they're going but they know where they belong.Because it's a two-sided sword really; being ambitious, trying new things, out of your comfort zone, living a crazy life. Combined with the need to be bundled up in each other as much as possible and the need to be always tuned into each other.





	Eight Years

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the friends who encouraged me during the process, you know who you are! And if you're not sure, wondering if this is about you; yes it is! Love you all.

Even after eight years together, or more specifically, _especially_ after eight years together, Louis still thought Harry's smile was the most beautiful thing in the world. Harry still thought Louis was the whole world.  
They didn't care about the exact dates anymore. Sometimes they had work obligations and couldn't be in the same place or even in the same country. They celebrated as soon as they're together again or had a FaceTime call instead, first thing in the morning.  
It worked and Louis sometimes thought it added to the fun. 

Spending some time apart was not necessarily a negative thing. As long as it's just a few days in a row.  
It seemed like the kisses they shared when they reunited were even more special, sweet, soft and with an inch of regret. Because it's a two-sided sword really; being ambitious, trying new things, out of your comfort zone, living a crazy life. Combined with the need to be bundled up in each other as much as possible and the need to be always tuned into each other.  
It had been five years together in the biggest girl band in the world, and it was a wild ride, it still is.  
They have their own unique ways to spend a whole lot of time together, and it's a glorious feeling.

Just one hour and Harry will be home again. And they will be able to tune into each other again. They’ll be able to actually _celebrate,_ their eight-year anniversary. 

At sixteen and eighteen was when they met, shared their first kiss, when Harry softly whispered _“I think I love you”_ into the ear of the girl next to her.  
Hands were always touching one another _somewhere, anywhere._  
Harry's soft cherry lips and their hearts wildly racing. It was warm, butterfly-like, safe, young and oh so new.  
It felt safe enough to open up to each other and share their dreams and deepest fears, from the get-go.  
They had sat outside in the dark, Harry on Louis’ lap. “Can I kiss you Lou?”  
There were kisses under the moonlight until lush lips were swollen. Until they felt they were drowning, in cotton candy and marshmallow sticky-ness. 

In Japan, broken objects are often repaired with gold. The flaw is seen as a unique piece of the object's history, which adds to its beauty. 

When things felt hopeless sometimes, and damn, sometimes it _was_ hopeless, they were always able to find each other within the calmness of the storm.  
The calmness of the storm is to go back to that cotton candy feeling of safeness and tenderness. In good times, in bad times and in-between times.

To be cuddled up, to kiss, for Louis to wash the long curls of her spouse so carefully, brush them afterwards and gently pull at them. 

For Harry to shave Louis’ head, to softly blow away the short stubborn hairs sticking to her neck. Life had thrown them some fucking beautiful things.  
No matter the stormy weather outside, or the wind blowing. 

**Louis**

Louis lit up a cigarette on the small balcony, the first one of the day. She thought she did pretty decent as it was already noon.  
There's just always time to kill, especially since Louis had started a very successful solo career after the hiatus. She was working as a songwriter and producer for other artists, alongside being a solo artist, which was her main focus.  
Always waiting for rehearsals, waiting for a performance, waiting for a photoshoot.  
Granted, it was like that for Harry too, she smokes sometimes as well. 

A smile is playing along Louis’ lips as her eyes fall on a photo of Harry.  
The picture was taken seven years ago at a festival. Harry with sun-kissed shoulders and sunburned cheeks, she radiated happiness, with  
cropped light blue jeans. They were paired with Vans, always Vans, and a sheer floral blouse. 

Louis found Harry so attractive that it felt as if there's an uncontrollable wildfire in her tummy when they touched. All Louis wanted to do was revisit the marks on Harry's skin. 

Her hazel, caramel and cinnamon coloured curls. Skin tones like buttermilk and sugar cookies. Blush bubblegum lips and emerald pistachio eyes. The prettiest colour palette Louis had ever seen, like a painting coming into life. 

Louis always celebrated everything about Harry, even more so whenever Harry was not so comfortable in her own skin. 

When her curls were untamable, when she thought her limbs were too long.  
When all of a sudden she was unsure about the soft spots hugging her hips.  
Louis just celebrated it all, making sure to be very vocal about how good Harry looked and how perfect she was to her. 

Perfection lies in uniqueness. So truth was  
that after shying away from it, it's when Harry's confidence bloomed like a flower. 

Now she's tapping into the awkwardness. Fondness washed over her when she thought of the long road Harry took, and of course, Louis always right next to her. 

Within the band they had to dress however the stylists liked them to dress. High heels, tights, bodycon dresses, a lot of makeup. It had to be performative.  
Harry and Louis always tried to search for ways to dismiss the performative way they had to dress. They went about it by wearing a flannel shirt, loosely over a bodycon dress. Sometimes having unshaved legs but in tights. High heels would be replaced by Vans. 

They did get a lot of backlash from the label and management. From fans too, unsurprisingly.  
The lack of interest from men all of a sudden was strikingly obvious and it felt so _thrillingly good._  
It's not that they lost the interest of a significant part of the band's fanbase on purpose, yet it was what happened. However, to the surprise of Harry, Louis, Liam and Niall, they gained new fans too. Fewer men were lost exclusively, but fans of different genders, wlw fans became fans. They were loyal fans, who picked up on the signaling. They were the ones who were aware by experience, how it is to feel very proud of your identity but at the same time how it can sting to navigate it all in this world. 

So much became clear after the small changes they were allowed to make in how Harry and Louis dressed. But, at the end of the day, it was the _reason_ for Sony to allow them to change. Because to the label it was just a way to gain more profit. However, to Harry and Louis it felt like a significant change. A small revolution for those who paid attention.

They decided to buy an apartment in New York a few years ago. It's their hideaway spot, they loved the winters in New York.  
It's such a convenient place as well. It's easy to fly back and forth to London and LA, their most visited places, however London felt like their real home.  
There's a cherry coloured sofa, a sofa to sink in and to spend lazy afternoons on. There's a fireplace, warm blankets.  
Harry also liked to knit sometimes so there's a box filled with beanies and knitted long shawls in the hallway.  
They had guitars in every home they own, and some guitars they carried along on the road. Harry liked to give them their own names and boxes, so the guitars felt at home too. Louis’ heart swelled with love for her spouse at the thought. 

They both loved art, especially art made by queer artists. It became a tradition by now; to buy Harry a piece of art she liked for their anniversaries. 

A few months ago Harry and Louis went to a private viewing of the pop-up lgbtq+ Arts Festival in London.  
They walked in silence, looking and admiring the photographs, paintings and works. Harry didn't say anything out loud, she didn't have to, Louis paying close attention to Harry like she always did. The light in her eyes shined a fraction brighter, cheeks rose coloured caused by concentration and excitement as Harry looked at an acrylic & ink on paper-work by Emily Howard. The line work bold, parts of it inspired by camp icons, creating humorous characters in her ‘tongue in cheek’ illustrations of lgbt nightlife.  
So when Harry chatted with one of the organisers of the festival after, like the social butterfly she was, Louis bought an Emily Howard art piece.  
Since it's a smaller piece, Louis decided it would be perfect for their New York apartment. It arrived just in time; carefully wrapped and waiting for Harry to unwrap. 

**Harry**

“Baby, I'm home!” Harry yelled when she opened the door of their apartment.  
She felt partly sleep deprived to the point of nausea because of a long flight and time zone differences.  
The happiness to see Louis again won  
over Harry's tiredness, just a few steps through the hallway. Home, she thought, home is my person. Louis was right there with a beaming smile and arms wide open.  
It's been five days since they last  
seen each other apart from several FaceTime video calls of course.

The first thing Harry did was run into the open arms of her spouse, a cuddle so tight she needed to gasp for air a little. “I've missed you so much, Happy Anniversary, I love you”, stumbling over words because there was so much to say.  
They took a few steps, still holding tight, and fell down on the loveseat accompanying the cherry coloured sofa. Harry landed on Louis’ lap. “Happy Anniversary, angel, hi”, Louis said through a smile. Louis took the pink snapback off Harry's head, so she was able to run her hands through her untamed curls. Still, after eight years, Louis loved to play with her hair. 

“I want to stay like this forever Lou. Oh and I have a present for you”, rubbing her eyes, as they stung of tiredness. 

They both knew how it felt, to be exhausted. The air and smell of the plane still hanging around them; dry skin, the desire to take a shower, use a blue Lush soap bar that smells like the ocean, and hydrate.  
So they showered together, sharing kisses, long embraces, soft skin.  
Eyes narrowed, a feeling of relaxation, physically and mentally. Harry felt warm and sleepy and safe when Louis carefully massaged Sunday Riley UFO oil onto Harry's cheeks and forehead after. Harry softly pushed Louis’ glasses as they slid to the tip of her nose before.  
It’s just part of coming home again, time after time after time. It's why they invested in a large shower with two shower heads closely placed next to each other, in all their houses. 

Of course, they weren't always in a happy mood when they reunited again. And that's okay. They  
both knew by now how to pick up the little signs and why it was important for Louis to let Harry just be in silence for a bit and to wait for her mood to become brighter and lighter.  
It's important for Harry to _listen_ to Louis, ranting about the things bothering her.  
She really listened, without interruptions, only letting out some soft _“yeah’s”_ and _“hhmmm's”_ and _“obviously”_ (oversh’ly in her heavy northern accent), until Louis was calmed by the soft vibrations of Harry's familiar peaceful voice. 

Harry made it a point to try and be Louis’ rock to lean on. Eight years ago, Harry discovered that Louis was so familiar with the role of being the caregiver; partly caused by being the oldest among a lot of siblings, and partly because she had an habit of trying to make other people happy. Which was admirable, Harry thinks.  
It's also the reason Harry makes so sure she was Louis’ calmness within the storm, complete safeness.  
It’s where Louis was able to stay still, to be in the moment, nothing more nothing less.  
To feel a warm hand resting on her neck, caressing the freshly shaved little hairs. Experience the feeling of the weight of Harry's fingers, the warmth spreading under her skin, if she paid close attention she even felt her muscles relax.  
Their dynamic not rigid, but tender, speaking each other's love languages fluently. They're _native_ , experts by now. Nothing set in stone.  
They went with the flow and just saw where it led them. 

\---------------

Harry dozed off into a power nap. She learned by now that it worked best to take a 20-minute nap when jet-lagged, or multiple 20-minute naps.  
Her alarm set 40 minutes from now, Louis beside her in their bed.  
Louis read a book about a conspiracy theory, as she's quite interested in that topic lately. It's quiet, only the sound of Harry breathing, in and out, falling asleep against Louis’ soft chest.

By the time the alarm went off, Harry woke up disoriented. It took a few seconds to remember that's she's actually here where she laid, in their New York home, on their 8th anniversary. Everything is blissful.  
Louis placed her book on the nightstand and turned to Harry. “Good evening love, how did you sleep?” Harry, still a bit woozy, buried her face in the neck of her spouse, a soft and warm place to hide in.  
“Lou, can I kiss you?”. Louis smiled at that.  
Even after eight years Harry checked if it's okay to kiss her. Even though the answer was always yes. 

Lips pressed together, as the kiss deepened and their tongues danced on the rhythm of a beautiful melody, Van Morrison, probably the instrumental and violins part of Madame George, Harry thought.  
Tentative yet confident small licks into each others mouths, velvet plush lips. 

Louis ran her fingers over Harry’s soft tummy, breasts and nipples. Some stretch marks spread among her hips, Louis could dream the route of the lines, every stretch mark like a road to a different destination. Soft moans escaped out each others mouths, laughing about how they still couldn’t keep their hands off of each other after waking up. 

Louis watched fondly as Harry, _her person, her woman, her angel_ whiningly and tremblingly fell apart soon after.  
And as a result, Louis happily enjoyed and experienced the exact same. 

All they felt was their love for each other, and the world faded away. Their presents were forgotten, they could wait until tomorrow.

The world faded away, everything around them, only leaving them, two woman simply in love. If a star fell out of the sky right now, and they made a wish, Harry would wish for _freedom._  
There were all different kinds of freedom, Harry never felt the need to clarify it further in an interview, when the interviewer asked about it.  
The two of them knew what kind of freedom Harry meant, and that's enough. 

It's _personal_ freedom, not the political take on it, or the broader meaning. Just the  
freedom to pack a picnic basket with prosecco, strawberries, homemade cookies and stroll through a public park on a summer evening, cuddling on a soft blanket. Without having to hide their love from the rest of the world. 

In the meantime, until that day came, freedom had a different meaning. Freedom lied from within. It's the freedom to love who you love, there wasn't any other way. The freedom to build a relationship so steady, so fireproof. 

Eight years into their relationship, going on nine. There were so many joyful memories, so many times of laughter, being silly and simply being each others worlds. 

The freedom to choose positivity above negativity. Freedom to leave that all behind, not let their thoughts and circumstances influence their actions of love, tenderness and dedication.  
And to top it off with a hint of stubbornness, always. 

It is what it is. 

And it's beautiful.


End file.
